


Scream For Me

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Dismemberment, F/M, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 14:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Lucas’s new victim is too quiet for his liking.





	Scream For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Blah blah blah.  
> This is just another excuse to write Lucas smut.....:)

Since she'd been a child, everyone who met Nessa remarked on what a quiet person she was.

The nurses and doctors who had patched her up after her mother's mistreatment were impressed by the fact that she never cried out when having her broken bones set.

The neighbours who had contacted Child Protective Services told the authorities that, whilst her mother had often shouted and screamed, Nessa could never be heard.

Years later, the midwife who delivered her son said she'd never known someone to not make a sound during natural childbirth.

And a few years after that, the police officers who came to inform her of the death of her husband and son in the car crash seemed disconcerted that she made no noise in reaction to the news.

It wasn't that she didn't feel pain or emotions, but more the result of hard training from her mother. Noise had meant beatings, screaming in pain had meant harder beatings, so she'd been conditioned to be quiet no matter how great the provocation. Silent tears were all she could produce.

Even now.

 

Nessa was strapped into the chair where the skinny guy in the green hoodie had placed her. Opposite her, the long haired man who looked like a stoner was in the same situation.

Her hand had been fastened finger by finger into some kind of metal restraint with blades poised over it. She didn't have to be Sherlock to work out that the whole setup meant trouble but screaming wouldn't have made any difference.

The man in the other chair, however, seemed to think differently.

“Where the fuck are you, man? What the fuck is this?” he was shouting randomly. “Let me go, dude! Why are you doing this?”

He was getting on Nessa’s nerves.

Just as she was preparing to reprimand him, the TVs on the opposite wall sparked into life, and there was their captor, grinning down at them. She hadn't gotten a good look at his face before, but she recognised him from the LCS hoodie he wore, though the hood was down now. Hollow eyed with bony features, he looked almost cadaverous in black and white, and his eyes were so pale he resembled a zombie.

He regarded them both for a while, taking in her stoic exterior and the contrasting hysteria of her companion.

“You sure do carry on,” he said finally. “You should maybe take a leaf outta this lady’s book an’ learn howta to conduct yerself with a little dignity.  _ Shut the fuck up! _ ”

The last four words were delivered with such force and venom that the man finally stopped his frantic entreaties and quieted down at last.

“There now, that's better. Can hear maself think! Ain't no need for all that. Anyways, now that I have your attention, I can explain the rules of the game we're gonna be playin’....”

As the man explained the premise, Nessa felt herself relax. Not only had one of her previous jobs had been a blackjack dealer, but she was also excellent at math. However, the stoner in the other chair - her opponent now, she supposed - seemed confused by what was being explained.

“What do you mean, no doubles? What the fuck are you talking about? What is this bullshit?”

Nessa shook her head wearily. The man in the LCS hoodie seemed to share a private look of amusement with her.

“Nessa, looks like you got a real good chance o’ winnin’ against Daniel here…..” he sniggered, before the screen went blank.

The cards were dealt regardless of Daniel’s complaints.

Nessa concentrated, did her math.

There was a lot of screaming from Daniel as he lost his fingers, and no doubt Nessa would have felt a lot more sympathy for him if he hadn't been quite so annoying.

During the course of the game, Nessa herself lost only one finger - her pinky - when Daniel thought to use one of his trump cards. When the blade fell she nearly passed out from the pain, biting down on her lip and squeezing her eyes tight shut, but a long, drawn-out hiss was the only sound she produced to accompany her tears.

Daniel passed out several times, especially when the electrocution was introduced, and he screamed a great deal when Mr Saw descended, possibly because he knew the implement was destined for his face, but Nessa continued to play impeccably despite any lingering compassion for the man's fate.

Nessa was a survivor.

 

Afterwards, Nessa blinked blood from her eyes. There had been a brief period of violent activity from Mr Saw during which a lot of brain matter, blood and bone fragments showered her, splattering into her face and hair.

Daniel’s face had been completely excised by the whirling assortment of blades and his head was now a hollowed out, pulpy mess. She sat and looked in horror at what had once been a man. A very annoying one, but a human being nevertheless.

The TV screens flickered into life once more. The man on the other side of the camera was watching her with real interest.

“You don't make a lotta noise, do ya?” he mused. “Yer smart too - only lost that one baby finger.”

He leaned forward, his smile far from reassuring.

“You hold on tight, now, Nessa. I'm comin’ in.”

 

She barely had time to consider her fear before the door behind her opened and her host walked in. In colour, he still seemed grey, but his eyes she saw now were ice blue and seemed to be able to see right into her.

He didn't even glance at what remained of Daniel. Now that the man was dead, he was evidently of no use nor interest.

His gaze pierced her.

“You didn't make no noise,” he observed. “Not even when yer finger came off. I heard once about a medical condition - what was it now?” He brushed aside a bloody chunk of bone and perched on the edge of the card table.

“Congenital insensitivity to pain! That was it. People with it can't feel no pain. You got that?”

Nessa shook her head.

“Aw.” He looked disappointed. “That's a damn shame! That woulda been fun.”

He shrugged.

“Oh well, can't be helped. Guess yer just the quiet type. That it?”

She nodded.

“Huh. Well, let's get you outta that there thing, Nessa, and see what else we can do with ya.”

He began to undo the straps holding her in place.

“Y’all will haveta excuse me gettin’ a little personal now, Nessa - Gotta do the straps on yer legs. Won't take long…..”

He ducked under the table, disappearing from sight.

Her ankles had been secured to the chair legs, holding her legs apart, and she squirmed at the thought of the view he was getting up her skirt. It had ridden up high on her thighs, whether by accident or design, and she felt his breath, hot against her knee, even as his hands worked at her restraints.

He was taking longer than strictly necessary, and as she couldn't see him could only imagine him crouching between her legs, undoing the straps by feel as he enjoyed the sight of the little strip of black lace that covered her pussy.

After an eternity, her right ankle was free, and she felt him shift under the table, moving squarely between her knees.

“That's a real nice tattoo ya got there, Nessa,” he remarked with a chuckle as he began to work on the other ankle.

She felt her face grow hot. The only tattoo she had was high up on her inner thigh, near her groin - a small pair of lips her husband had often kissed. It had been a private joke between them, a signal.

A solitary tear ran from her eye and she wiped it away with her free hand.

With a grunt, the man freed her other ankle and crawled out from under the table. He was flushed, and as he straightened she could see the unmistakable bump of a hard on distorting the crotch of his pants. He quickly pulled the hem of his hoodie down to hide it.

She cringed away from him as he leaned across her.

“Hey - don't panic! Ah’m jest undoing yer hand. Hold still, now….”

He unstrapped her wrist, pulling her fingers from the channels. When he reached the stump where her pinky had been he studied it curiously before poking the raw edge, his finger digging into the exposed meat.

She gasped, snatching her hand away.

He grinned.

“Ah’ve known grown men ta scream at that!” he said. “Tell me, Nessa…..”

He leaned over her, pushing his face close to hers.

“What would it take ta make ya scream?”

 

His name was Lucas. He told her as he led her away from the torture room, slamming the door on Daniel’s remains without a backward glance.

Nessa had hoped there would be other people around, someone she could appeal to for rescue, but the many rooms they went through were deserted. He held her arm tightly above the elbow, his steel grip discouraging escape even as his fingertips prodded at the soft flesh of her upper arm with creepy intimacy.

The rooms were cold and impersonal, bare floors and whitewashed walls. He moved confidently through them, his own private little Asshole Kingdom, and Nessa wondered how many other people had met their ends there - wondered how many bloodstains the whitewash covered.

“Ya know, Nessa, I could jest dump ya in the cells with the others. Let Eveline recruit ya. But yer a challenge, and I ain't never been one ta give up on a challenge.”

They were in a lofty space that felt like it could've been a barn once - there were vacant stalls and rotting straw.

He dragged her up a wooden stairway, his fingers bruising her arm. There was a strange smell in the air that didn't seem to come from the ghosts of whatever animals had once lived there. It was a damp smell, some kind of corruption like wet rot and stagnant water.

“Stand there. Don't move,” he ordered.

Nessa thought about running, but he had the streamlined look of a greyhound, and despite his unhealthy appearance she thought he might be able to run fast. Faster than her.

Cradling her wounded hand against her chest, she stood at the edge of a balcony, overlooking a darkened space below. She craned her neck, peering into the shadows. She thought she saw something moving down there.

She felt Lucas behind her and began to turn, but his arms were round her waist before she could properly move. He had a length of rope he fed around her, securing it with a large clumsy knot beneath her breasts.

“What are you doing?” she asked nervously.

“Testin’ a theory,” he told her. “Guess you could call it an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?”

“I'm gonna call it: ‘What does it take to make Nessa scream?’ I know. It's a temp title.”

He pushed her over the edge.

 

Her stomach lurched as she fell, but the rope around her pulled taut with a sickening snap, cinching a burning line around her middle. She swung at the end of it, dangling roughly 6 feet above the ground below.

She whimpered from the pain, looking up to see Lucas watching her over the edge, an expression of bright curiosity on his face. Nessa hadn't screamed, and she hoped that was the end of it, but the sounds coming from the edges of the room drew her attention. Heavy, slithering noises, thudding against the bare boards. Wet sounds. Something detached itself from the shadows, lumbering into view, glistening like an oil slick.

She sobbed, pulling up her legs as the thing lurched towards her. She didn't know what the fuck it was, but it didn't look real. It was all claws and teeth and contamination, the unhealthy sheen of its surface rippling and shifting.

Others appeared, making their uneven way towards her. She bounced at the end of her rope, stifled moans crowding her throat as the things batted at her. Dirty claws seared slashes into her legs. She tried to pull her feet up further, but the taller monsters gouged her calves, drew cuts in her thighs.

One stretched its neck, opening a sabre-toothed mouth towards her foot, its throat a dank channel of slime. It snapped shut on nothing as she was suddenly jerked upwards.

Hand over hand, Lucas hoisted her up, his strength astonishing.

“I'm impressed, Nessa,” he said, pulling her over the rough boards. She felt splinters jab at her. “Not a single squeal. That hadta hurt.”

He examined her bare legs, the long cuts oozing blood. She lay her head on the floor, weeping.

“Please….” she begged. “No more!”

“Yeah, that's prolly enough,” Lucas agreed.

His fingers fumbled at the knot securing her. It had pulled up higher and was now positioned directly between her breasts. The back of his hands brushed against her nipples as he worked.

“Yer real warm….” he muttered absently. “An soft……”

The rope came loose. He hauled her to her feet.

“Please….”

She didn't like the way he was looking at her, his eyes burning holes in her clothes.

“Yeah, that's right. Keep beggin’....”

He pushed her up against the wall, clamping her there with his body. His erection was back, pressing against her belly. She turned her face away from him.

“Don't…..” she said softly.

Lucas pulled away, his face twisted with disgust.

“You ain't no fun!” he complained. “Why won't ya scream?”

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

“It ain't much to ask!” he continued. “What's wrong with ya?”

“I can't….”

He snorted.

“I don't believe that! Everyone has a scream in ‘em.” He shook his head, clearly disappointed. “C’mon, let's get ya cleaned up.”

 

Nessa was on his bed. The sheets were crumpled and stained. She didn't want to wonder what the stains were.

Her legs warred with the stump of her finger, each competing for the grand prize of which hurt more. So far, her legs were winning. The claw marks were ragged and steeped with the threat of infection, compared to the clean, almost surgical, feel of her severed finger.

Lucas stood at the end of the bed, watching her. There was a green bottle in his hand, some sort of liquid sloshing around inside.

“Reckon I might need 2 bottles,” he said. “Yer dinged up pretty good.”

“And whose fault is that?” The words were out before she could snatch them back, but to her relief he smirked.

“Well, ya got some spirit, so that's somethin’!” He unscrewed the lid of the bottle. “Where's it hurt most?”

“My legs…”

He upended the bottle, splashing the cold fluid over the open wounds. It sizzled as it met the ragged edges of her skin, foaming over the clotted blood.

She sucked in her breath. Her skin tingled where the stuff touched her, replacing the pain with an almost blissful sensation.

“What  _ is _ that?” The flesh was knitting together, healing as she watched, tissue reforming and closing.

“Special, ain't it?” He grinned. “Some good shit right there. Fix ya right up. Hold yer hand out.”

Eagerly, she sat up, extending her hand. He doused the naked stump liberally, and whilst her finger didn't regrow spontaneously, the pain disappeared.

“It's amazing,” she whispered.

“Got that right.” He recapped the bottle. “Feelin’ better now?”

Nessa nodded. She was feeling strange. Now that the pain had gone, she was experiencing…..gratitude?

He'd hurt her, but he'd also taken the agony away.

“Thank you.”

Lucas laughed.

“Even  _ I  _ know I don't deserve that,” he said. “But I'll take it. So, what's yer story, Nessa? Why you so quiet? I'm guessin’ somewhere along the line someone's told ya ta shut the hell up more’n once. Was it yer daddy?”

She shook her head.

“My mother. Never met my father.”

“Yer  _ momma _ ? Shit….Somehow that's worse. What’d she do?”

“She'd beat me. If I made too much noise…. _ any _ noise. And if I screamed when she hurt me, well…...that meant a worse beating. I learned to shut up early on. The habit stayed. Now I can't make a noise even if I want to.”

Lucas stared at her.

“That's fucked up. Ya mean ya  _ can't  _ scream?”

“I don't think so.”

“I don't think I believe that that. Uh-uh.” He put the bottle aside. “I aim ta make ya scream at least once, Nessa. Just so’s we both know you can do it.”

 

His campaign began.

He conducted his “experiments” with either clinical detachment or sadistic good humour, depending on his mood.

There was pain, a great deal of it, but there was also the healing liquid in the green bottle afterwards which  _ almost _ made up for it.

Lucas scared her, too, just to elicit a response. Sometimes it involved small things, like bursting a balloon behind her, but other times he put her in real peril. He used the monsters on her more than once, varying the circumstances, to provide both pain and fear.

He was immensely strong, she found out, but he also had a twisted sense of humour, so when he hung her one-armed over the swamp whilst alligators swam beneath her he would pretend to lose his grip and cackle maniacally at her reaction.

When he discovered that she was afraid of spiders, he took her to an old dilapidated house that was partially underwater and seemed to be overrun by bugs. There were fat-bodied spiders there, swarming the walls and doors in scuttling groups, and they jumped at her when he shoved her closer.

That was the closest she came to screaming, lying on the floor with spiders crawling over her face. She nearly lost her mind with terror and revulsion and the intensity of her reaction finally seemed to evoke some sort of sympathy from Lucas.

He brushed the spiders off her twitching form, carefully picking off the ones she'd accidentally killed with her thrashing. On the very edge of hysteria she sobbed, her entire body shaking.

Lucas helped her to her feet.

“Wow! I thought we’d done it that time. Thought spiders was yer Achilles Heel, but looks like you were right: You can't scream, not even if ya want to. You wanted to, right?”

She nodded, trembling. In a rare show of compassion, he rubbed her arm awkwardly.

“Well, I guess that's it. You done proved me wrong, Nessa. No more experiments.”

The words struck fear into her greater than any of the terrible tests had done. Now he was finished with her, what would he do?

She imagined him disposing of her with no ceremony, not wasting one of his inventions on her demise but simply snapping her neck and dumping her body in the swamp for the gators to feed on.

“Please,” she begged through still-chattering teeth. “You can do more! Don't give up….”

He looked at her strangely.

“Ain't no point. Oh!” He grinned.”I get it! You think I'm gonna kill ya now I ain't no more use for ya!”

He shook his head.

“Naw. I prolly won't do that. Maybe I can find somethin’ else ta do with ya.” 

 

She dreamed about her husband. Normally, dreams about James filled her with grief upon waking, but this was a different sort of dream. After this one, it wasn't her pillow that was wet when she woke up.

Confused, she sat up in bed. Lucas was working at his desk, drawing up some kind of plan or schematic, some monstrous weapon or torture device unspooling from the nib of his pen.

He worked like a little kid, hunched over, his tongue poking out, gripping the pen far down near the point. He was concentrating so hard he didn't notice her presence until she touched his shoulder.

He gave a satisfying jerk at the contact - not enough to make up for all the scares he'd given her, but it was something.

“Whut?” Vague irritation that he'd been interrupted but also curiosity, his blue eyes staring straight into her brown ones.

“I remembered something,” she said, and kissed him.

He tensed in surprise, the pen falling from his fingers and rolling from the desk onto the floor. His mouth was a hard line under hers that relaxed as he understood the situation, opening up to her, sparring back at her tongue with his own.

Even though he hadn't been expecting it, Lucas rose to the occasion admirably. There were no questions, no demands for explanations, just immediate action. He stood, his chair toppling, his hands going straight under her skirt to grab at her ass through the black lace, fingertips biting into her flesh.

She'd figured someone like Lucas would get his kicks wherever he could, take whatever was offered, and she'd been right.

It had been a long time - too long - since she'd had sex, and the dream of her husband was blazing in her head, setting her nerve endings alight with its memory. Lucas’s hard on was a stiff bar against her belly, and she rubbed against it deliriously, tugging him against her by his belt loops, absorbing his grunt of pleasure and adding it to her own arousal.

Becoming impatient, he pulled his mouth from hers, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of her top and yanking it upwards. She lifted her arms obligingly and he dragged it up and off, tossing it to one side, stripping her efficiently.

Nessa unzipped his hoodie as he fumbled at the clasp of her bra. Despite his apparent talents at building machines the technicalities of women's lingerie were beyond him and he gave up with a muffled curse, shrugging off his hoodie and shucking his t shirt over his head as he watched her unhook her bra herself.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, jostling her backwards and pushing her onto the bed.

She fell onto her back, her legs opening automatically. Her skirt had flipped up, and he concentrated on the little black triangle that covered her groin as he climbed on, crawling between her thighs.

His hands grappled at his belt. His excitement was evident, his cock crowding out of his fly, jutting upwards. She grabbed its tip to pull him down onto her.

His mouth went straight to her tits, greedily sucking up a nipple with no finesse but boundless enthusiasm. Nessa lifted her hips, feeling his cock nudging the crotch of her panties. He propped himself up on one hand, pushing his jeans down just far enough to free his dick in its entirety.

Lucas didn't bother to pull her panties down, just yanked the gusset to one side and shoved his prick into her with no wasted movement. He was big, bigger than James had been, and there was a brief moment of pain when he entered, but after all he'd put her through previously the twinge in her pussy was nothing.

She was wet enough to accept his whole length in one go - there was no gradual easing, just an abrupt slide as he shunted in up to his hilt. He moaned as his tip bumped her cervix, and she opened her legs wider, wanting no obstruction.

“Fuck me hard,” she instructed him, no frills, no sweet talk. That was how she'd always liked it. When she'd first met James, he'd been gentle with her, knowing her past, but she'd found it agonisingly frustrating. She wanted her cunt battered, rammed hard and fast, to feel like she was being split in half from inside, and after some time she'd managed to persuade him that this was what she wanted, what she  _ needed. _

Lucas needed no such persuasion. Her words were a goad to his libido and his answering grin assured her she was going to get exactly what she'd demanded.

Nessa’s head fell back, her mouth opening as Lucas did as he was told, fucking her mercilessly, his cock a relentless ram pounding into her, his hips slamming against the inside of her thighs.

He pulled himself up onto his knees, hooking his arms under her legs to hoist them high and wide, jerking her whole body to the rhythm of his thrusts.

She groped at her crotch, her fingers finding her clit and mashing it furiously. Her entire consciousness narrowed to a point, concentrated on the slippery tunnel of her pussy and the motion of her fingers. It wasn't going to take her long to cum, Lucas’s cock driving her swiftly and savagely to her peak, bruising her cunt with its ferocity.

“Yes….” she moaned. “Yesyesyesyesyes….”

She was nearly there, gritting her teeth, snarling.

“Harder!” she urged, and though she didn't think it was possible he obliged, finding a new reserve of force he'd been holding back.

“That's it! Ohhhh, that's it, yes!”

Her voice grew louder, her orgasm building with its volume. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hips lifting and falling.

“ _ Yes! Oh fuck,yes!” _

She all but shredded her throat with her screams, all her conditioning and self control fucked into oblivion as she came, her cunt spasming around its fat portion of cock. She thrashed at her clit, slapped at it, triggering another climax that ripped her apart, shattering her composure into tiny pieces.

Nessa sagged limply onto the bed, feeling Lucas a hundred miles away shudder and cum inside her, a choked moan dragged from his lips.

She opened her eyes, looking up at him. He was staring down at her with an expression of shock.

She smiled weakly.

“I remembered,” she said hoarsely. “If you want to make me scream….that's how you do it.”


End file.
